Recently in Rants Category

So what I have noticed it that between FaceySpace and Twitter, everyone I know and/or would talk about is privy to my every post so ... I need to use this more. Because no one comes here or cares what I have to say here. And maybe that's a good thing. Being too linked is bad for the creative process ... I find myself editing, sitting back, changing my words so that no one will be offended.

When did I start caring if I offended someone?

I know exactly when it was. When I realized that by speaking out, I had been black-balled.

I'm not going to change any of that here. It's been done. I'm not moving up here, no matter HOW much I achieve and I've accepted that. Those that have put me here will have to deal with the repercussions someday just as I have had to deal with them every single day of my life.

Karmageddon, bay-bee. Good luck with that.

Anywhooo ... I'm back. I think. Still trying to figure out where and how I fit. Still trying to raise my kids. Still having to remind myself to breathe. SSDD.

Well, hi there. I hope I haven't kept you waiting long? Pull up a chair, let me get you a beverage and we'll chat.

Sorry, I totally didn't realize how quiet it had gotten here. The last time my writing went quiet for a while I mentioned it to Tim, as I saw it as a problem and wasn't sure why I "couldn't" write anymore. After thinking about it, I realized that I wasn't writing as much because I no longer had a surplus of words and emotions trying to pour themselves off the ends of my fingers. Tim, my wonderful, supportive boyfriend of 5 years, actually allows me to speak my mind, even when I'm upset or frustrated. My kids, too, are older and we are able to communicate on levels that we couldn't before. I find I no longer have to rely on my writing for release and that is a wonderful, and terrifying, feeling.

Can I still write? I don't know. Should I still call myself a writer? Hmm, another good question. Is an artist that doesn't paint still an artist? Looks like I might have to change my profile in a few places if not. I do know that I have the heart/soul/mind of an artist, even though I haven't picked up a brush in 7 years. I still see the emotions in colors, feel the resistance of the brush in every stroke, follow lines hoping to find the destination the artist wanted me to. So, yeah, I guess I'm still an artist if paintings speak to me. Am I still a writer though?

Yes, I suppose I am. I've just been spreading myself out a bit too much. Between Twitter and Facebook and here and my kids and my work and Tim, I only have so many words that I can put together before I start repeating myself and start feeling like I need to stop.  Because, frankly, what really goes through my mind every time I start to write is "NOBODY CARES!" - amazingly echoed by one of my favorite crazy paralegals just today in a post that really touched home.  It's almost as if I was being reminded to write, whether anyone else cares or not, becuase sometimes these things have to be said. 

The thing about being an artist/writer/crazy person is that you see things a little differently than most people do - let's call them the "normals".  When I'm with a group of normals, I have a hard time focusing on the conversation because, for most of the time, my senses are overloaded with the sounds, smells, emotions that are happening, crashing, clashing at any given second. I am constantly overwhelmed by the desire to capture every moment, whether in words, in a photograph, in a sketch or a painting ... and because of that, I am sure I appear distant or aloof from people and situations. What is happening, though, is I HAVE to emotionally take a step back or I will surely get lost.

So what's with that, hunh? Artistic Autism? Anything I can do for that? I'm thinking the super power Invisibility would help me a lot. It would make socializing so much less stressful.


~~~


In the NEWS ...


Since school has ended, I am in FULL VACATION MODE. Almost. Kinda. Ok, I only check my work email ONCE a day and I've only been out to the school ... ummm ... twice? I KNOW!!! I know. Stay away. *sigh*

I'm heading to Virginia tomorrow to see the IRL race with Tim on Saturday. Will miss his dad at the race, though. It'll be just us kids. OH, how I love Love LOVE this weekend.  

Uncle Ritchie is on his way down from Massachusetts. Last I heard he was in St. Louis, playing poker with friends. He'll be traveling through to Texas and then coming back up the East Coast on his way home.  I love Love LOVE Uncle Ritchie.

We are planning to paint a mural in Jasmyn's room this summer. We'll be painting her favorite painting on one whole wall ...

 
and the rest of her room will be painted a deep purple/blue.  As you read above, I have not picked up a paintbrush in a long time so this should be interesting. We're in the planning phase, my favorite phase. It's not until the actual execution phase that I start having doubts. Oh, how I love Love LOVE the planning phase.




ANYWHOOOO ... I know there was more news but now that I've absorbed the fact that both Farrah Fawcett AND Michael Jackson died today and I've watched the Real Housewives of New JErsey Reunion AND So You Think You Can Dance, my brain has turned to mush. I'm going back to my tweeting and IMing and packing while my laundry tumbles and the butterflies gather in my belly about making a 300 mile drive alone tomorrow. I know I'll be fine its just a long trip and I need Need NEED to see Tim now Now NOW. Unfortunately, there's a little matter of that 300 miles between us. *sigh*

I'm scheduled to come back Sunday and I'm sure I'll have more news to share with you then. We'll see.

Shut off the lights when you're done, would you? That's a dear reader.

That was the subject of an actual email I sent to Tim yesterday shortly after the bell rang. I was still on an adrenaline high from the day and had a hard time typing even that. I had to type something, though. I had to reach out to someone that would reassure me that the entire world wasn't f*cked up, that there were good, decent, sane people out there and that someone loved me and, of course, that person was Tim. I'm sure the rest of the email was a garbled mess that made very little sense but I clicked send, tossing out my message in a bottle from the isle of crazy that is my school.

You know, when I became a teacher, I didn't go in with many romantic notions. I knew it would be hard but I also knew there were great rewards. My first year, a one year stint in the media center at a large, overcrowded elementary school, was a learning experience. I fell in love with a couple of special needs kids. I got punched in the head while breaking up a fight. My heart broke when we lost a student to a house fire. I realized at the end of the year that yeah, maybe I could make a difference, that maybe I had just found what I was supposed to do for the rest of my career.

When I got my own library at the end of that year (in a much smaller school with a better reputation) I was thrilled. With fewer students and fewer classes, I would be able to really get to know the kids and the teachers, maybe even get in the classrooms to help out the teachers with special projects. I had a courtyard right off my library and I could envision taking my students outside on nice days for storytime. Ok, so maybe I got a little romantic about it.

Over the past 6 years, my school has seen a lot of changes. We're on our 3rd principal, 75% of our staff has turned over, we've been redistricted and a full half of our clientele changed. Suddenly the West Greenville kids were taken out of their neighborhood school and bussed across town to our East Greenville school (and vice versa). What this did was send some very low performing students to our formerly high performing school. It also made us a Title 1 school (meaning the majority get free or reduced lunch) which makes us eligible for more federal funds. Our previously strong PTA redistricted to nothing. It also brought a whole host of behavior problems that our tiny neighborhood school has never had to face. 

I'm not being Pollyannic about our school. Seriously, we never even had a need for In School Suspension (ISS) before. If a student had trouble, we called home and it got taken care of. Since the redistricting, we have felt a change. If a kid gets in trouble, a call home ends up with the parent coming to our school ready for a confrontation. Some of them bring weapons. Calling home doesn't fix the problem, it invites more problems onto our campus.

Still, we were sure we could handle it. We created an ISS class, we created a positive behavior program. We loved all our kids, found ways to get them to be proud of their new school and to teach them basic skills (respect, self control, kindness) that many seemed to be lacking. We tried, we really did, to make the best of a difficult situation for everyone involved but, sadly, it's not working.

Take yesterday for instance. Now this was arguably the worst day in the history of our school but it is pretty indicative of where we are right now.

The day started out pretty normal. I had an ECU student come to read to my classes so she could finish up an assignment. Our media center was busy, bustling but happy. Meanwhile something was brewing on campus that no one could have seen coming.  Around about 11 am, several students from the SED (Serious Emotional Disability) class (formerly the BED or Behavior/Emotional Disability class) came into the library and plopped down at the computers. Something was up and I had no idea what but they know the Media Center is their safe haven whenever something is up. I found out later that the 3rd grade student in there was attacking the Assistant Principal and had kicked her in the face before he was finally calmed down.

About half an hour later, we went into our office for lunch, still not too alarmed since the SED kids usually have one or two blow ups a week. We were just starting to relax when we heard blood-curdling screams coming from the 5th grade hall. Several teachers went out in the hall but we stayed in the media center to keep the students calm and focused on their work. When we walked down the hall about 10 minutes later, though, we saw a few dazed faces and a cop in the hall talking to a surly 5th grader. It took us a while to find out what had happened but apparently there were 2 separate incidents.

•     Zach (aforementioned surly 5th grader) had decided he didn't want to comply with the rules and he turned into The Hulk, pushing his desk across the room, sending it crashing into several others and screaming at his teacher that he "don't have to f*cking do anything!!!" The class was taken off to PE and he was left behind with the teacher and the cop that was still on campus from the earlier kicking incident.
• Meanwhile, in the Art class, two girls got into it, one hit the other and the other hit back so hard it knocked the first girl back into the doorjamb so hard she got wobbly. They were taken back to their class (after getting ice) to talk the problem out and, while everything seemed fine and calm for a bit, the instigator (who had hit her head) suddenly stood up and started backing out o the room. In the doorway, she started shreiking about the monkeys in the classroom. She was totally freaked out so apparently she was seeing  those freaky flying Wizard of Oz monkeys, not cute little chimps. Her teacher held onto her while he waited for her mother to come get her. When the mom was advised to take her daughter to the doctor, that a hallucination could be the after effect of a concussion, she kind of shrugged it off, as if her daughter complained of seeing monkeys every day.
  

As surreal as that was, we were getting back to teaching when I was asked to cover a 4th grade class. "They should be fine, they are just writing and don't worry, Robert is sleeping it off." Not sure what the teacher meant (and a little afraid to ask), I went out to the trailer to cover the class and sure enough, there was a group of students diligently writing stories and one boy sleeping at his desk. Apparently, he had lashed out at the teacher while taking his meds earlier and thrown his water glass in her face but had been sleeping since. How are we supposed to teach him when he sleeps half the day? No one had an answer or me but I did find out he was going to be in the SED program starting next week. Only 6 months into the year to get his some help. Yay red tape!

Before I left that classroom, one of the exceptional teachers came in flushed and winded. She was told to come there to get her out of a different situation in the SED trailer. Apparently a student bit her arm, then went on to slap her teacher in the face. The Assistant Principal came in a little later to check on her and thank me for covering. I went back to my (hopefully) peaceful media center.  I heard later that I had just missed the motorcycle cop driving down the sidewalk between the trailers and the school to respond. I would have had to jump aside. *shucks*

I was just getting back to work when I heard a commotion at the door. The 3rd grade TA had her arms around one of her very angry students and was bringing him to me (of all people). Apparently, he had a fit in music class and the principal, after hearing me talk about him earlier in the day, thought I would be a good person to help calm him down. I led him into my office, asking one of the students that was in the media center to jump behind the desk and run circulation while I talked to him.

It took a good 5 minute before he would look at me but as I touched his arm, his clenched fists unballed and he finally grabbed onto my fingers. Holding his hands, face to face, I just talked to him until the rage left his eyes. He is suspended until next week so I'm not sure what is happening with him but I do know that, in part, was what set him off ... he is in a very volatile household and being home will be a huge inconvenience to his mother, which will cause more volatility. I felt terrible putting him on the bus but I told him I loved him (I seriously do love this kid and I have since the first day I met him last year. More on him later, I'm making him my project) and to come see me Wednesday.

MEANWHILE, one of our 4th graders found out he was suspended for 2 days and HE flipped out and had to be carried to the office where it took 2 people to hold him while waiting for his social worker to come pick him up.

AND a parent came into the office drunk off her ass to complain that her son is being unfairly punished because can't ride the bus anymore after he "allegedly" sexually assaulted another boy on the way to school. She eventually was escorted out of the office and off campus only to meet with several police cars across the street.

There were many more little incidents yesterday ... the parent that tried to barge into the principal's office without checking in, the rude phone calls about the late bus in the morning, a little fist fight in Kindergarten (I say little because their fists are little) over two pencil boxes that were touching ... and at the end of the day we were left shell-shocked and bruised.

I filled my water bottle at the bubbler and went to check in our first year 5th grade teachers Robbie, 22 (who was with the monkey-seeing girl) and Katie, 22 (who had the surly HULK SMASH DESK kid) and make sure they were ok. Slowly teachers began filing in to talk and share what had happened and before you knew it, a group of us were laughing to the point of crying.

Some teachers (like a few of the 1st grade team) were totally oblivious to the entire day, which is great because we know that the volatile emotions were contained. Some of the teachers knew every detail about their one incident or about the incident in the office but had no idea everything else that had happened. In the end, none of these teachers knows every single student that was affected nearly as well as I do, having had the privilege to teach every last one of them. To say it was an emotionally wrenching day is a gross understatement.

Again, I have to say this was an UNUSUALLY insane day. We were chalking it up to a combination of the full moon and spring fever. Then we realized today was Friday the 13th and we all thought we should boycott for our own safety. While that sounded like an excellent idea, when I pulled in this morning, every single teacher was there, even the one that has a black eye. The police weren't called once today. We all kept looking at each other nervously, as i we were waiting for the other shoe to drop and, when the end of the day came with no incidents, a spontaneous celebratory cheer rang through the halls. 

Do I still think I can make a difference? Of course I do.

Do I think I deserve more money for what I do? Oh, HELLZ to the YEAH!!!  Our state/county/city is facing a budget crisis of epic proportions and with the recent hiring and budget freezes, no one feels too secure in their job. I know, I should be glad I still have a job. I would like to get paid for what I'm worth, though. 

Do I wish I worked someplace else, in a cubicle perhaps? Some days, you betcha ... but not today. This Friday the 13th went off without a hitch. Monday? That's another story.

Last weekend, my son made a bonehead move during breakfast that caused a bit of tension in the house. T was here, I had just pulled 2 trays of biscuits out of the oven, we had sausage and gravy ready for a decadent Sunday morning. T and I had gotten our biscuits, the girl had just gotten hers and he was getting a plate when suddenly I heard a loud *clomp* sound. He had his plate in his hand and a look of horror on his face. Apparently when he turned, his fingers caught the edge of the bowl of gravy and sent it flying onto the floor. *splatter*

My immediate reaction was "How on earth did that happen?" I didn't scream at him, I didn't call him names, I didn't make fun of him, I just didn't get how it happened.

Then I told him to just step away from it and let me clean it up. It was an accident and, as accidents go, a fairly innocuous one. I spent the next 20 minutes cleaning up (because of course I had to empty the sink before I could use the mop and I had to empty the dishwasher before I could empty the sink) in silence. I wasn't the only one being quiet, though, everyone around me was watching, waiting, like I'm a time bomb with a hair trigger.

When I was done, T talked to me, told me not to be too hard on him, he's a kid, etc. He made a lot of sense and I appreciate him being the voice of reason but, honestly, I already knew what he would say. It mostly served to calm me down and was supposed to get me in a better mood so life could go on as normal. And it did, in its own time.

I've been thinking about that incident and others a lot lately, though. Incidents where, although I'm not totally proud of how I handled myself, everything got resolved in a grown up and peaceful manner. I like to think I'm a fairly decent parent but I have doubts and they run deep, especially lately.

I just don't get how I have this reputation for being such a mean parent. The girl has said several times that she didn't want to ask me something or she was afraid to tell me because I would get mad. And the boy, apparently, thinks I'm a raving banshee and tells his friends all the time how mean I am and how I'll yell at him if he asks me  for anything.

What went down tonight really bothered me, though. The girl had a concert tonight (she sung a solo beautifully) and I bought her flowers. After all the buildup and then sitting through the show (I'm a nervous wreck for her!), I'm waiting in a crowd (which I HATE) waiting forever it seems for her to come out. She comes out in street clothes (everyone else still had their concert dresses on) and when I go to hand her the flowers and tell her congratulations, she snaps "What is it with you and flowers?" She then proceeded to talk to everyone BUT me for the next 15 minutes.

There had been talk that she and her best friend and I and her best friends mom would go out to eat afterwards but that turned into best friend and best friend's mom (and alcoholic boyfriend) and 2 brothers AND at least 6 other people and the restaurant we wanted to go to closed at 9:30 so they decided to go to Chili's (decidedly more expensive) and it was all too much for me. Between the girls flighty, snippy attitude and my awkwardness in these situations, I told her we would talk in the car.

Well, the talk turned into an argument that lasted all the way home about how I always make her feel guilty and miserable and she was just joking. She was sobbing by the time we got home and you know what? I give up. Apparently I'm some kind of monster because I talk to my kids like rational adults and make them take responsibility for their actions and attitudes. Apparently, growning up Catholic did something to me and I have the guilt gene deeply embedded in my psyche. And I'm making the people around me miserable.   

Remind me why I actually tell you anything?

Phone call today. My mom was upset. She got a call from my brother. He has been sick and went to his doctor, where they found he had an elevated white blood count and something on his lung. Well, he finally got a CAT scan, which revealed it is a fluid filled cyst and he's having surgery.

Ummm ... yeah, this is the same thing I had last summer, except I had 2 cysts, one on my ovary/fallopian tube and the other on my kidney. And I had to have surgery. An oofrectomy AND a kidney bisection, thank you very much. Did she call my brothers and my sister all upset? Hmm ... lemme think ... umm, that would be a big fat no since no one even knew I had surgery.

What happens to me is not nearly as important as what happens to you and your friends and your other children.

We talked about when I could take her out to dinner for her birthday. She went on an on about how busy she is, how much she has coming up. I just bit my tongue. What she has are voluntary social obligations, things she has gotten herself into. Lunch with the girls, an Oktoberfest party, a reception at the museum, all places where she can be the center of attention, if she plays her cards right. She's squeezing us in tomorrow afternoon. 

Me, I'm a slacker. I just have a presentation to give on Monday, surveys and a presentation to prepare for Tuesday, a School Improvement Plan to present with my team next month, an application packet to fill out (Media Coordinator of the Year), a library to weed, a collection development plan and a LSTA grant to write, as well beginning my National Boards and getting my Media Helper program going for the year ... not to mention the day to day work of working full time and being a single mom with two busy teenagers whose car needs an oil change and 2 new tires, like yesterday.

Can you tell I'm just a bit bitter? 

There was a time when my family was *this close* to being on the street, unable to pay rent or bills, and who was there for us? No one. You know why? Because I was an embarrassment to my mom and her "what will the neighbors think?" mentality.  I couldn't ask for help and she wouldn't get any for me. Yet when I got my shit together and bought my first house all on my own, did she celebrate?  No ... she was pissed that I didn't include her in the process.

No wonder I pull in and become reclusive ... because no one in my family actually cares about what happens to me or my kids.

I have succeeded despite my family and I will continue to succeed without them. I don't count on anyone for anything and its going to stay that way. 

Doesn't keep me from wishing I had a family for support.  

The session has ended!


SO GLAD I opted to talk to a "real" person.

The murder of marine Maria Lauterbach and her unborn baby has hit home with me. The fact that her murderer will only be charged with her murder is unbelievable. Now, I am fiercely pro-choice (and I'm sure we could all argue back and forth about this forever) but in the case of a murder of a pregnant mother, especially when the fetus is full term, it is a viable human being and should be protected as such by law.

There was a vigil for Lauterbach this weekend and, while I couldn't go, I am able to sign an online petition  to show my support for changing this law. Join me, won't you? 

Last week, I wrote a terse entry  from my favorite getaway spot. I had packed up the car with kids, presents and goodies to spend a restful holiday with T's family. I had looking forward to this weekend for months. My work situation has been brutal, grinding and soul-stomping since the beginning of this school year. With new administration and severe understaffing, even my pretty new library furnishings weren't enough to make me happy at my job and this frustration and unrest were carrying over into every aspect of my life. It was the reason I went back on anti-depressants (which are not working, btw) ... I was hoping they would take the edge off so that I could merely exist until I found a way to make it better.

Well, I thought I had found a way to make it better. A job at the county level opened up, one that I have been working toward for 5 years, one that I went back to grad school for a second time to get licensed for. The job description called for a Masters and a Licensure in one of two combinations ... either a Masters of Library Science and a Licensure in IT or a Masters in Instructional Technology and a Library Science Licensure ... I now have the first combo and am well qualified for the job. As soon as the opening was announced (back in October), I dropped off my resume and sat back to wait.

They finally set up an interview on the day after school let out. In the meantime, I heard several things ... that the job description was being rewritten to focus more on the Library Science and less on the IT (which should have tipped me off), that the pool of candidates was very small, that the technicians were behind me candidacy. All of this should have told me to stop hoping. My gut kept warning me but I let a hopeful thought or two in and began to think I actually had a chance.

When I went for the interview, I was ready, relaxed and rehearsed. I don't do well in interview situations, getting far too nervous and passionate when I speak and easily getting sidetracked. I felt confident, though, even though I was going into a situation not knowing who my interviewers would be.  When I walked in, I found I would be interviewed by two people I knew ... the one that would be making the ultimate decision and a professor from ECU whose class I had thoroughly enjoyed getting an A in. I thought the interview went well, though my 'boss' yawned a few times while I was answering questions, something the professor caught and looked concerned about.

I should have been concerned. I should have known going in that it was a lost cause. I should have noticed when he looked down his nose at me before I left in that he had no respect for me and no intention of taking my candidacy seriously. I should have known that, in this political world where you change your ideals depending on who you are talking to, that my annoying habit of speaking my mind and being strong in my convictions of wanting to serve the children of our county would not go over well.

I found out via email that I didn't get the job. I lost to a sleeper candidate, someone that does not have my qualifications but someone that will make her boss look good. She doesn't need the job or the money but she fills a need for him that I don't. Eventually, I will be able to live with that but right now, I'm on my indignant high horse, full of venomous thoughts and toxic anger.  My holiday escape was wrecked. I spent most of last Saturday in tears, unable to have any fun during a youth group get-together. Sunday was supposed to be a joyful, reverent performance at church, followed by family time ... poor T was relegated to the supportive boyfriend role (which he is awesome at), watching me bob about in an emotional sea of angst.

Yes, I have ideals that I will not give up, no matter how tempting the job is. Yes, I have moral fiber, despite the fact that I do not fit into the mold of other candidates. I don't know how, but I get the feeling that the fact that I am a single mom of kids that some would consider mixed-race, that I do not 'come from around here' topped by the fact that I have proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that I can not be broken by anything or anyone (witness my escape from my marriage) made me unpopular with certain people. 

The irony that I have helped several people that are above me get to where they are is not lost on me. This whole situation reeks of politics.  Why bring in someone that could actually help the department if they are going to make you look bad?  I have been told over and over not to take this personally but I can't help it.  I was hoping it would not be personal but that email told me it was.

I don't know what I'm going to do but I do know that I can't keep fighting this fight if it is going to hurt my kids in the end. Just under a week before I go back to work. I'm reviewing my options but, at the moment, I'm unable to do anything because everyone is off enjoying their vacation, which is what I should be doing.

Several members of my family are in town this weekend. This is just what I didn't want.

I know. They are my family. But, you know what??  From the time I moved down here and was left stranded with the x and two babies (and through all the turmoil that ensued), my family was my babies. No one knew what I was going through, and it seemed like no one cared.

Well, my mother knew but she didn't tell anyone ... God forbid anyone know that things aren't perfect. My family is a family of secrets. When we are doing well, she brags about how great her kids are. When we are struggling, she avoids bringing us up. So when I was alone in a cold house with no heat and barely any food while the x was  out on the road sleeping his way across the country, she didn't let anyone know that I could use some help.  If she had,  maybe someone in the family would have told me that he was not worth staying married to, since most everyone else in the family knew he was cheating but I didn't.

Things like that just aren't talked about.

So excuse me if I don't want to spend too much time with my family.  I would rather spend time with my best friend, who is there for me through thick and thin, and my kids. That is my family ...  the people that I draw close when I need to be held, the ones that stick with me through thick and thin.

Dear Diary,
Today I stood up for myself and promptly got backslapped into last week. That'll learn me ...


Yeah, you might be able to tell I'm in a mood. I'm angry, hurt and frustrated beyond reason. Working alone is wearing on me and today I realized that, not only am I working alone but no one really cares. I spend all day, every day, saying yes to people and the one time I say no, they go running to the principal to get their way. What's worse is that she listened to them without finding out my side of the story or taking into account that I HAVE BEEN WORKING ALONE FOR A MONTH and can not even go to the bathroom when I need to.

At our conference, I heard over and over again how other MCs are being disrespected, left understaffed and overwhelmed on a daily basis. My frustration isn't new or unique but I take these slights on a deeper, more personal level. I don't think anyone knows how much I put into this job or just how much there IS to doing this job. I don't complain because I know everyone else is in the same boat as I am and I am supposed to be a TEAM member ... not everyone feels that way, though, and people like me, the nurturers that give of themselves, get pushed aside while others use us to get their needs met.

Anywhoo ... I spent most of the afternoon in tears, glad I have sent my resume out and willing the phone to ring. I have given my heart and soul to turn this school into something everyone could be proud of yet I can't even enjoy  working there. Going to drown my sorrows in Twizzlers and Katamari tonight and get up tomorrow and do it all over again.